Back
by darylsdiva1
Summary: What happened with Caryl after the S6 Midseason premiere.
1. Chapter 1

_Weaving cloth from a single hopeful thread, because she_ _did __look in the window of the Infirmary to check on him._

* * *

 _Back_

" _Haven't had a chance to say, I'm glad you came back."_ Carol to Daryl, S3:E11

* * *

Denise looked over to the porch door as Abe came in, noticing a movement at the window to his left: a flash of silver hair and blood splattered white blouse, an expression of concern on a bruised face that appeared for just a few seconds and then was gone.

"She didn't have to wait outside." Denise said as she threw another stitch in the back of the Archer's broad shoulder.

Daryl's head turned briefly to the window and then back to the front without comment, but she felt his muscles tighten under her hands.

"I need to look at her too... that's all I meant." the doctor said, keeping her voice neutral. Carol had pushed Daryl to the front of the triage line when Sasha said he'd been stabbed. No one quite had the whole story of how he, Sasha and Abe had gotten a hold of the tanker truck that had allowed them to take out the rest of the herd—but he was bleeding so he got priority.

"She hurt?" Daryl asked, his voice rusty and gravel dry with exhaustion, but that didn't mask the underlying concern.

Denise's lips twitched up into a small smile, because without even saying her name, they both knew who "she" was.

"She saved _all_ of us..." the doctor told him.

"She does that." Daryl murmured.

"When the Wolves first attacked, before you got back? It was bad. We lost a lot of people." she thought of Holly, bleeding out on her table, of all the broken, burned and savaged bodies they'd gathered from the streets and houses and buried. "Would've been a lot more without her stepping up."

"And she got hurt then?" Daryl prompted, wanting the rest of the story. He'd been gone two days, but the Wolves had attacked while he'd been leading the rest of the herd away on the first, when everything in him fought to come back to Alexandria.

"When the tower fell yesterday and the walkers streamed in I was with her and Morgan and... Morgan had one of the Wolves locked up in the basement... he was hurt... I was..."

"He had one of them fuckers who slaughtered you all?" Daryl asked, his voice taking on an edge. "Rick know that?"

"No." Denise said with a sigh. "No one knew but Morgan and me... and then Carol."

"She kill him?" Daryl asked. Carol's mercy did not extend to assholes that hurt her family.

"Morgan thought... he thought that he could save him, change him. Carol didn't." Denise answered indirectly.

"And?"

"They fought. You know wrestling, Daryl? Know what an illegal take down looks like?" Denise's brother had been all-state Varsity. The move Morgan had used on Carol had been brutal and he'd both regretted and paid for it instantly, the Wolf using his own staff to cold cock him.

" _He fucking body slammed her?"_ Daryl's voice rose and he whipped around to burn the doctor with his gaze. Maggie and Glenn looked over at him with concern. Judith started whimpering and Michonne scowled and stepped into the room where Rick held vigil over Carl, closing the door behind her.

"What the hell were you and Morgan doing while that asshole was hurtin' her?" Daryl growled, lowering his voice and jerking her forward.

Denise's mouth came open, her hands still holding the suture and curved needle. She didn't quite understand how Daryl had managed to grab hold of her wrist in a vise-like grip without her realizing it.

She should correct his misunderstanding, but would he then go after Morgan?

"He knocked Morgan out. I was tied up." she said. All true, just not in the correct sequence of events of what had happened in that basement. What the Wolf had done after, saving her, Denise still didn't have straight in her mind. Had he done it only because as a doctor she was valuable to him? Or had he found some last glimmer of humanity? She'd never know. Carol had done what she'd wanted; ended him... putting Denise in the right place to save Carl. You could go crazy trying to decide who and what was right...

" _Shit."_ Daryl bit out, looking back to the window and door onto the porch.

"Can I have my hand back?" Denise asked, the tight grip of his bloody callused fingers making her start to shake.

Daryl turned his head back to her briefly and then released her and faced forward again.

"Finish up." he growled.

"One more for your collection." she quipped as she threw the last stitch.

Daryl stiffened.

She hadn't meant anything by it. Hadn't said anything about the other scars when he'd reluctantly removed his vest and shirt, which he'd clung to tightly with his left hand the whole time she was working on him. The rough raised ridges that striped his broad back, the tattoos climbing his shoulder were just part and parcel of what she already knew him to be, a warrior.

She kept her mouth shut while she finished, cleaning the wound area again with alcohol and applying the gauze and tape dressing.

"Keep the area dry as you can. The dressing should be changed once a day; watch for signs of infection. You'll need help with that." Denise advised. Where the wound was located on his shoulder would make it nearly impossible for him to change it by himself.

Daryl grunted then stood and quickly shrugged his dirty shirt and vest back on, covering up.

"Maybe she'll let you check _her_ back in exchange." the psychologist turned trauma specialist said mildly.

Daryl's eyes met hers, narrowing dangerously.

Denise merely raised a knowing eyebrow and looked over at the porch window.

Daryl's face softened as he caught Carol looking through the window again, a brief smile crossing her pain pinched face when she saw him standing.

"We always got each other's back."he said, and headed for the door.


	2. Chapter 2: Front

Front

He looked for her on the porch when he came out of the Infirmary door, standing to the side to let Tara move past him to go inside, but the young woman paused and touched his arm.

"She went to help find our people and move them to the cemetery." Tara said, knowing without asking for whom he'd been scanning the crowd.

Daryl nodded in thanks and barely acknowledging the other's greetings to him, he headed down the street towards the area near the wall that had become the graveyard.

The way she stood there, looking down at the body of the boy laid out next to his mother and brother made Daryl shiver like a cold front had just blown in. Her gaze was dispassionate, blank, not unlike the look she'd given him when he'd followed her to the RV, right after Rick had put Sophia's walker down.

" _That wasn't Sophia; that was some other... thing..."_

The look said she'd shut down, closed herself off to feeling the depth of her grief, choosing instead to act as though it had all been decided long ago; some cruel god's uncaring plan that mere mortals could never hope to understand.

" _I can't let myself..."_ she'd said after Beth died. And she hadn't. While he'd come close to breaking she'd just soldiered on, putting one foot in front of another, staying on her toes, slipping on another face for these new people too stupid to see behind the pleasant florals and smiles that never reached her eyes.

Had it been the part she'd played that had kept them apart or had it been something else? He was out beyond the walls with Aaron while she'd been behind them... just like when he'd gone out with Michonne searching for the Governor while she'd stayed behind the fences, getting to know everyone, earning their respect, doing whatever she needed to do to keep them all safe.

When they'd started encountering groups of survivors, his mission with Michonne had become secondary to him. No longer was his goal revenge only. He began to feel the same need as she and Rick had, to build something, to make a place where they could do more than just exist, to make a place where they could have a _life._ And for him that life had included her... could he still say the same now?

Ever since the prison fell she'd been different, lost, and he'd tried his awkward damndest to show her that he was still there for her, no matter what had happened while they'd been apart. In those ten or so days they'd wandered separately something had profoundly changed in her, he knew it, her felt it, saw it every time he looked into her eyes.

When they'd gone after that cross signed car in the dark, they'd been united in their mission; _trying._ Afterwards he'd mourned Beth, her young life so full of hope cut off in an instant, but also knew that if it had been Carol whose body he'd carried out of Grady he'd have been done, all his trying for naught, any life he'd had after that a shadow existence.

Absently reaching down to shoulder his bow, grimacing when he realized it wasn't there, Daryl silently moved to stand next to her, hoping his presence would be welcome.

"He tried to kill Rick. Shot Carl instead. Michonne killed him..." Carol said, looking at Ron's body. He'd been skewered through the heart, left to turn while Rick and Michonne fought their way through the herd to get Carl to help. His face was visible above the blanket he was covered with; gray cast features were covered by a mask of blood from the blow whoever had used to put him down in the ensuing battle.

"'chonne said the boy froze, panicked. The younger one." Daryl said quietly, "n'then it was like dominoes..." the boy had been swarmed by walkers and then the mother, Rick forced to cut her free from Carl when her death grip would have doomed him as well. The pain in Michonne's face when she'd quietly explained how Carl's horrific wound had happened haunted him. She'd had to kill a child to save Rick.

"He wasn't ready... he was weak..." Carol said in a monotone, staring down at Sam's shrouded body.

"He was just a kid." Daryl said simply. Just like Sophia. Just like those two girls. Just like Beth. And she'd been unable to protect them, save them, any of them.

The smaller body was wrapped in a blood soaked sheet, seeping from wounds visible on the white fabric almost head to toe; he'd gone down, eaten alive.

Daryl reached out his hand, brushing the back of hers with his fingertips.

"We need to start digging graves." Carol said, taking a step away and reaching for one of the shovels stuck blade first into the ground.

"You don't have to." Daryl said, reminding them both of the woman and children in the shelter in Atlanta, moving to take the shovel from her.

"You'll pull out your stitches." she said, refusing to release it, refusing his help. She fought all her own battles now.

"And you just got the _shit_ kicked outa you!" he barked, "Doc told me what happened to you." he forced the shovel from her hand, letting it fall to the ground.

"I'm fine." she said, her stoic front firmly in place, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't _lie_ to me—you can lie to _them_ all you want, but never to _me_." Daryl said gruffly.

Carol glared at him, the first show of true emotion she'd given him in weeks. She turned to go, but he blocked her with his body. She tried to get around him, but in her haste her foot caught on the shovel and she started to fall towards the covered bodies on the ground in front of them.

Daryl made a grab for her and reeled her in, feeling the stiff unyielding strength of her spine against his chest.

" _Let me go."_ Carol's eyes filled with involuntary tears of pain, pushing her hands against his arms, wrapped around her from behind.

" _Stop."_ Daryl said gently, the side of his face pressed to hers. _"You're hurt. Let me help you."_

This was how he had held her, that day in front of the barn. This is what he had felt then, that helpless anguish of failure. He hadn't brought her daughter back, he hadn't found her and Tyreese and the girls in the forest, he hadn't seen Beth's recklessness in that hospital hallway, he hadn't been here when the walls fell and more innocents died.

" _Please let me help you."_ he whispered, feeling her stop fighting his hold on her and start to tremble.

" _There's too much... you don't..."_ she protested, but instead of arguing with her, he bent at the knees and slid his arms around so he could scoop her up in a bridal carry.

To his surprise she didn't say another word as he carried her back to their house, wending his way through the bodies still littering the streets. Her head rested against his chest as did her hands, seemingly to soak up the warmth of his body like it was the sun.

* * *

The house was empty, everyone else still at the Infirmary or working on the clean-up. He carried her upstairs and straight into the largest bathroom, the one with a walk in shower, and set her down on the closed toilet seat. Digging in his pocket he pulled out the pain pills Denise had forced on him when he'd sat down for his stitches, ran a glass of water and handed two of the pills to her. She took them without question and handed him back the glass.

Daryl pulled off his vest and toed off his boots and then knelt in front of her, starting to work the buckles on her Doc Martens. He froze when he felt her hands in his hair and lifted his face to look up at her. She was staring down at him, the barest hint of a small sad smile on her lips as she pushed his fall of bangs back off his face.

" _Help me?"_ she asked softly, reaching for the buttons of her shirt, but wincing at the movement, no longer hiding the aches from the abuse she had suffered.

Daryl replaced her hands with his own, a bit clumsy as he worked the small shell buttons on the bloody white blouse while she sat still and watched him. When he was done, he helped her ease it of off her shoulders and blushed to see the pretty lace bra she wore underneath. His shy blush turned to fury when he saw the bruises already blooming on her shoulders and back.

" _Shit..."_ he bit out, turning her on the stool so he could see the extent of them, running from her nape to the curve of her hip.

"I've had worse." she said softly, ripping at his heart.

He couldn't protect her—she was strong, didn't need his ass rescuing her any more—but just the same he still wanted to always keep her from harm and he _couldn't_ , it just wasn't possible. Driving the herd away all he could think was that he had to get back, get home, to make sure his people were safe, to make sure _she_ was safe. Even when he'd been with those assholes who stolen his bike and bow, he'd seen the signs, the flower on the mossy as fuck walker, the fuel truck, finding Sasha and Abe, blowing the mouthy son of a bitch and his pals to hell, all of it to get back to her.

Not fully understanding the impulse, he bent closer, trailing his fingers lightly over the highest bruise on the point of her shoulder. He heard and felt her breath catch, but continued. When he reached the clasp of her bra he simply unfastened it and continued on down, pressing his fingertips carefully over each mark that he found on her soft skin, his hand at her waist holding her still for his healing exploration.

She was shivering, holding herself still, waiting on him to do whatever it was he was going to do next, trusting him in a way she did no other.

Daryl stood and pulled her up with him. He quickly finished undressing her, his touch gentle not seductive, and then led her to the big shower. He turned on the water and stood behind her under it, pushing the water through her hair.

"Close 'em." he instructed and took the bottle of shampoo off the shelf and used his right hand to massage a dollop through her short tresses, rinsing away the dried blood and whatever else had been caught in them today, under the spray. He kept his other hand spread low on her belly, holding her up, but he felt her breath rate speed up as she relaxed into his touch. Her ass was resting against the front of his pants, her back to his now soaked shirt.

He felt her balance shift and she reached out a took a sponge off the rack and charged it with liquid soap, then her right hand reached up and took hold of his, stopping it at her nape and pressing the sponge into it, while her left rose and came to rest over top of his other hand lower on her body.

" _You gonna wash the front?_ " she asked, her voice hoarse. And then she pulled his right hand down and his left up to cradle her breasts.

Now Daryl was the one in need of someone to hold him up. Her nipples peaked tightly against his palms, the soft weight fitting perfectly in his hands. She made a pleased noise as he let his fingers be guided by hers to squeeze and explore in the guise of spreading the suds from the slippery sponge over them. Any pain she was in seemed to have been forgotten as she leaned back, widening her stance, pressing her bottom even more firmly against him.

Groaning, Daryl's lips found the pulse point behind her ear, nuzzling in as his right hand drifted lower, following the lazy path of the bubbles down, his thumb dipping into her navel just before his finger tips encountered the curls at her center.

He heard Carol gasp as his fingers slipped inside her welcoming heat, forgetting everything but the need to help her, the desire to make her forget the pain and loss and just feel _good_. She put her hand over his, guiding him to the kind of touch she needed, rocking against his wrist, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her breath catching, her cries rising with need until he had two fingers trapped tightly inside her by rhythmic spasms as she whimpered his name.

Knees weak, his hard on pressed painfully against the wet heavy fabric of his pants. Her soft round ass bucked back into it at each hitch of her hips with every spasm and cry as she came against his hand.

 _Shit._

He hadn't even kissed her yet.

He held her while she came down, her chest still heaving.

" _Good?"_ he couldn't stop himself from asking.

She laughed happily, a clean bright sound, one he hadn't heard from her in longer than he could remember and he found himself chuckling along with her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her close, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head.

"Your clothes got all wet." she said, reaching to turn off the spray.

"Shit—wasn't supposed to get my stitches wet." he grumbled.

"You need to shower; then I'll put a clean dressing on for you." Carol said.

"Don't want to move." Daryl murmured. He had his arms full of warm wet soft woman.

"If you do I'll wash _your_ front too..." she offered in the same teasing voice she'd used atop the bus their first night at the prison.

This time he didn't tell her to stop.

When his grip on her loosened, Carol turned in his arms until they were face to face and then she slicked back her hair. She reached up and worked his shirt open, concentrating on one button at a time while he rested his hands lightly on her hips. He brushed his lips against her forehead which was bent to her task and with a little start she looked up into his eyes.

One corner of Daryl's mouth was turned up and his gaze moved to her lips as he leaned closer, but then darted back up to her eyes again, silently asking for permission. Her fingers curled around the sides of his shirt, holding on and pulling him closer at the same time. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but she silenced him by kissing him first.

Was this the start of something or the end? This had always been there between them, ignored when survival was what needed their focus, but it lived there under the surface all along. Every time it had threatened to bloom before, things had fallen apart. For people who knew from bitter experience that there was never enough time, they had been wasteful with it for themselves.

Was this just a brief respite for her? A way to escape her darkness for a bit? Would it all come crashing back after? Would that strange distance between them still exist if they did this? Daryl's mind raced with doubt, but her lips were persuasive. When her strong small hands found the buckle of his belt, he told his brain to shut the fuck up and leave him alone... She _wanted_ him.

He slanted his mouth across hers, deepening the kiss on a moan while at the same time trying to help her get his wet uncooperative pants down. It didn't help what little control he had left, when as soon as they were halfway off his ass her hand closed over his jutting erection, encircling it with her fingers, her thumb delicately slipping over the head.

He ripped his mouth from hers and all the breath went out of him in an inarticulate guttural exhalation and he shot all over her hand and belly, his hips rutting into her uncontrollably, head thrown back almost in anguish.

She held him through it, gentled his head against her shoulder when he berated himself in profanity laced embarrassment, kissed him, helped him finish undressing and then turned the water back on, cleaning them both. She left him to wash his hair and wrapped a towel around herself as she sat leaning against the back of the toilet and watched him, her eyes sleepy, but with a small peaceful smile on her face.

He was still sheepish when he stepped out of the shower and saw her staring at him. He grabbed a towel, quickly rubbing it over his head to get as much water out as he could and then wrapped it around his narrow waist, the water still glistening on his upper body, accentuating the strong lines of his arms and shoulders. He ducked his head and winced before he tried to formulate speech, not really sure what would happen next.

"My bed's bigger." was all she said as she raised her arms up, silently asking him to carry her again, letting him help her, maybe letting him in, behind the front she had adopted to protect herself, protect them all.

He'd take it.


	3. Chapter 3: By my Side

_Final chapter: Daryl confronts Morgan and tries to work out what's best for Carol._

* * *

" _By my side..."_

 _Where are you going?_ _  
_ _Where are you going?_ _  
_ _Can you take me with you?_ _  
_ _For my hand is cold_ _  
_ _and needs warmth_ _._ _  
_ _Where are you going?_

 _Then I'll take your hand,  
finally glad, finally glad  
that you are here,  
by my side...  
_-lyrics: Stephen Schwartz

* * *

By My Side

The soft knock on the door made Daryl scowl, afraid it would wake Carol. He eased her off his chest and gently made sure her neck was cushioned by the pillow next to his head and pulled the covers up over her. Then, grabbing his big knife, he rose swiftly and went to the door, which he opened just far enough to see who was out there.

" _The fuck do you want?"_ he rasped, angry but keeping his voice quiet. The man was at about the bottom of his list of people he wanted to see at the moment.

Morgan stared at him for a few beats, taking in the fact that Daryl was shirtless. He looked over the other man's shoulder and saw Carol asleep in the bed behind him.

"To make sure she was okay." Morgan said softly and then met Daryl's eyes, " _Is_ she okay?"

"No thanks to you." Daryl bit out, and then opened the door so he could grab a hold of Morgan's shirt and shove him across the hall until his back hit the opposite side wall in a move so quick Morgan had no time to react. In his other hand was his buck knife which he held blade down, ready but not immediately threatening.

Faced with a naked, enraged Daryl Dixon and already wearing his guilt on his face, Morgan didn't try and fight back. He held his hands out to his sides at waist level in surrender and waited for Daryl to speak.

"You're gonna want to keep away from me and that means you'll be stayin' away from her, 'coz I ain't leavin' her side, got that?" Daryl growled menacingly, his head almost touching Morgan's, brow to brow.

"Yeah, Daryl... I got that." Morgan said, with a somewhat sad clipped nod.

"So you probably want to find new digs." Daryl abruptly released him and took a step back. He hadn't been exactly thrilled when Rick had moved the newcomer in without consulting the rest of the household. He still wasn't sure he trusted the quiet man with the bow staff, despite the fact that Morgan had saved him and Aaron from the Wolf trap.

"You speaking for _Rick_ now?" Morgan asked, squinting up at Daryl.

"You can ask him." Daryl shrugged, "After I tell him what went on in that basement."

Morgan's eyes went to Carol again.

"She told you?" he asked, his voice flat and resigned.

"Naw—Doc did—said you were keepin' one of them?" Daryl's voice went low and dangerous, "His life more _precious_ than all the innocent people he and his bunch slaughtered?" he sneered.

"I never meant for Carol or anyone else to get hurt..." Morgan protested, looking into Daryl's eyes for understanding, "...but she wouldn't stop. She came after him—"

"She was _protecting_ this place!" Daryl shut him down, getting in his face again, "Protecting _us_ , like she always does."

"You don't have to _always kill_." Morgan said resolutely. "People can change. I did."

" _Daryl?"_ a very surprised sounding Michonne appeared down at the end of the hallway at the top of the stairs. She drew her katana and kept walking towards the men, her head tilted in curiosity.

" _You keep away from her, you hear me?"_ Daryl said, for Morgan's ears only before he turned to Michonne, brazening it out. "Just asking everyone to keep it down so Carol can get some rest," he said, his hands on his hips, standing sideways to her, staring at Morgan, "She had a hard couple of days."

"Looks like she's not the only one." Michonne replied, deadpan, her eyes briefly falling before they rose and met his with an amused smirk, sheathing her sword.

Daryl snorted at her and then turned and stalked back into Carol's room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

"Well, _that's_ new." Michonne observed with a thoughtful look.

Morgan frowned at her.

"That part of her disguise?" he asked shrewdly, "Them staying away from each other before this? So people wouldn't see?"

"See?" Michonne arched an eyebrow at him.

"That he's in love with her." Morgan said.

"Sometimes it just takes awhile for people to see it for themselves." Michonne replied with a small smile. "Good night, Morgan." and then she headed down the hall towards her room.

"Good night, Michonne." Morgan said as he stood in place, staring at Carol's doorway. _"...some more than others..."_ he said softly to himself after he heard Michonne's door click shut.

* * *

" _Thank you."_ Carol said softly as Daryl slipped back into bed beside her.

" _Shit—was trying not to wake you."_ Daryl whispered, gently pulling her back into his arms. _"Sorry."_

"No, _I'm_ sorry I conked out on you." she replied, cuddling closer. After he'd carried her into the bedroom and put her in bed, she'd finally felt the full effect of the pain meds Denise had intended for Daryl. She'd fallen asleep in the middle of a kiss, which didn't do much for Daryl's ego, but he was glad she was comfortable enough in his presence to rest. His shoulder ached like a son of a bitch so he'd stayed awake, just watching her sleep.

It wasn't the first time he had done it. It had worried him how little she relaxed even in sleep while they'd been on the road after Terminus, as if she didn't trust that anyone else would protect her so she never let her guard down. Sheer exhaustion had forced her to rest in Atlanta while they searched, the night in the shelter the first time she had looked a bit peaceful in that bunk. He wanted to think it was because they'd been alone together, that she trusted him more than the others...

"Thank you for keeping him away from me." Carol said.

"Didn't think you'd want to see him." Daryl said simply.

"Don't." she agreed, not elaborating.

"He'll stay away." Daryl said firmly.

"We all live here, Daryl. It's our home." Carol said, not just meaning in the same house, but in Alexandria.

" _You're_ my home."Daryl said, wearing his heart on his metaphorical sleeve.

Her only reaction to such an emotional declaration from him was to press the coolness of her hands against his chest, resting her head over his heart and tucking her chilled feet against his warm calves.

"You're like a furnace." she said, the top of her head under his chin, curled into his side, her arms going around his torso, "I always appreciated that on the road." He'd usually bedded down between her and the outside of the circle when the group slept around the campfire. With flames on one side and Daryl on the other, even under her thin blanket he made sure she stayed toasty.

Daryl was at a loss. She hadn't responded to what he'd said. Maybe she was only thinking of this as a onetime thing? Sharing her bed with him? He didn't want to push and ruin things, but he also needed to know... damn, people accused _him_ of being close-mouthed and inscrutable, but she avoided and glossed over with the best of them.

"Carol..." Daryl tried, but her breasts were squashed up against him, all soft and full and her thighs went one over and one under his right one, her sex pressed against the long muscle there. When he felt her lips brush against his collar bone, he sucked in a breath in response. Her mouth continued to move across his chest until it came to rest over one immediately hard nipple, sucking down, swirling her hot wet tongue around it in devious distraction.

" _Carol."_ Daryl groaned, his hands going to her shoulders, unsure if it was to pull her away from him or drag her closer. "Whatta ya doin'?" he asked.

"Apologizing." She said, lifting her head briefly to speak, her eyes soft and seductive, "I fell asleep on you before..."

"Can you... can you stop for a minute?" he asked her, wondering if he'd just qualified as the stupidest asshole around for wanting to get some things clear before they went any further. Merle would've said so—he had a woman in his bed—well, her bed—but a real live gorgeous sexy naked woman who wanted him and he was stopping to _chat_?

Carol lifted her chin, a small frown line forming between her brows causing her nose to wrinkle up. She suddenly looked vulnerable and unsure, trying to move away from him, but he still held her by the shoulders.

"Hey—where're you goin'?" he soothed, "Didn't mean you had to go nowhere."

"You said stop." She said, sounding hurt and also angry with herself for feeling that way.

"Not 'cause I _wanted_ you to stop!" he said with a snort.

" _What?"_ now she was just confused and tried wriggling out of his grasp.

"Didn't want you to _stop_ , just wanted to ask you something first, but I couldn't... _damn it..."_ he groaned, all her little movements in trying to get away from him, brushing that soft pussy against his leg, her breasts peaking as they bounced against his chest, were making parts of him react in ways he couldn't exactly control.

He saw the exact moment when that fact registered on her face as her eyes went wide and her mouth came open in a gasp. She stopped struggling and held her body still.

"What do you want to ask me?" she asked him, keeping her eyes on his face.

Daryl stared back. He wasn't a talker—hell, if anybody knew that she did—but this was important; this was _them._

"Want us to be together." he finally said.

"You're here, in my bed." she responded. "And if that _isn't_ your buck knife digging into my belly..." her voice trailed off suggestively and then she raised an eyebrow at him, "...seems pretty _together_ to me."

" _Smart-ass."_ he smirked.

"How long has it been?" Carol asked him. "For you... for _this_?"

"Long time—before the Turn—always used something though. I'm safe... _fast_ but safe..." he said, with a shy squint, making her purse her lips at him being so self-deprecating.

"I want us to be together too." Carol told him. "I do... but I don't need to talk about all the other—I just need to forget it—can you give me that?" she asked him.

He knew the last thing she needed was to keep holding everything inside, but at least this way he'd be close enough to her so maybe he could be there when she was ready to let go... or when she just simply fell apart...

"I can." Daryl told her, nodding, leaning close.

"And you'll still go out on runs with Aaron or Rick?" she pressed, "You won't hover over me like I'm some delicate flower?"

" _Fuck flowers_ ," he snorted, "You're steel and fire rainin' down on anyone thinks they can hurt us."

He could see in her eyes that she liked that he thought of her that way, that he admired her strength instead of being threatened by it. Her lips curved into a smile and she took hold of his biceps, using them to lift herself more fully on top of him, straddling his hips so that his cock was notched at the cleft of her center.

He framed her hips with his hands to stop her, careful of the bruises already blooming there.

"Wait—need something..." Daryl asked, realizing he should've grabbed the condoms he had in his backpack as part of his survival gear. They'd hold up to a gallon of liquid and could be inflated as a signal marker, both of which he'd learned after he'd quietly freaked out upon seeing them fall out of Aaron's pack on their first solo recruiting trip. The other man had dryly told him that he was hot, but he was in love with Eric.

"Don't." Carol said, giving a little negative nod, stopping him, and he felt her trembling a bit. "You don't need it—I can't—and I'm... healthy... I want this... just _you_..."

Daryl looked up into her steady blue gaze waiting for further explanation, but when none came he took her at her word. He suddenly realized that her last time had probably been with Ed and the weight of the trust she was showing him hit him hard.

"Com'ere." he said , sliding his hands up to cup her elbows, drawing her down so her breasts rested on his chest. He raised his head, his eyes lowering to her lips and she closed the gap between them and kissed him delicately.

Carol moved her hands over his upper arms, testing the power in his biceps with her grip. As the kiss grew more insistent, she began to move on him, slipping her hips up and back, coating his straining dick with her wet heat. She licked at his lips, taking the lower between her teeth and nipping before sucking it inside her mouth. When his mouth opened on a moan she used her tongue again, this time lapping at the bare skin on his chin above his little patch of whiskers there before returning to the kiss.

Daryl's hands rested on the bed to either side of his hips—he was afraid of hurting her by gripping her bruised backside too hard in passion—and so he resisted the need to touch her. When her tongue pushed in seeking his, he responded in kind and the kiss quickly turned into something he couldn't hold back from, though he tried. She just tasted too damn sweet, too _alive_ and it was his turn to shake with need.

She took his hands in hers and helped them find her breasts. When he felt her reach down and hold his erection steady so she could merge their bodies he willed himself to hold off, to not give over to the release that clawed at his belly and balls to be set free, to wait until he was inside her, a part of her...

" _Please..."_ she gasped.

Daryl arched his hips up, helping her to sheath him, so tight, so good, just the head, but she squeaked and stuttered out a sigh of pleasure.

" _More."_ she demanded, rocking against him, her knees to either side of his hips widening and another inch slipped in, all that slick grasping goodness sucking him deeper.

Her hand was still circling him at the root, but with the next inch she slid it back and cradled his balls and he almost lost it.

" _Shit, woman!"_ he grunted, flashing a half glaring half pleading look up at her, but she just smirked at him.

Payback was his right hand leaving its hold on her breast to slip between them and push in to find her swollen clit with a stroke intent on pushing her as close to the edge as he was just as he bucked his hips up, burying his dick in her the rest of the way.

Her mouth came open and her eyes went wide in sensual shock and he grinned at her, a little proud of himself for being able to hold off this time.

" _Good?"_ she asked him, just like he'd done in the shower, but instead of waiting for an answer she just started moving.

If he'd though being buried inside her bare was the best thing he'd ever felt, the sensation of her walls tightening around him as she shuttled up and back on his cock was like the Pearly Gates had opened wide and god hisself was standing there with a six pack of Sweetwater and a welcoming smile on his ever lovin' Hershel bearded face.

" _Heaven."_ he groaned and then worked to bring her up there right along with him, using every point of their connection, deep kisses, teasing her nipples, his fingers on her clit, to drive her crazy; holding off until she came first, then him, both quite noisily, and she collapsed down onto his chest, a sweaty pile of sated woman. She slid off him onto her side and he draped his arm around her, carefully pulling her close.

Neither of them spoke, but he coaxed her head up by sliding his index finger under her chin, staring intently into her eyes. The haunted hardened look that had underlain her every expression since they'd been reunited outside of Terminus was still there, but more than anything else, what he saw reflected back at him... was _love..._

"You don't never have to put on a front for me... I always have your back... I'm always on your side..." Daryl told her, his voice hoarse with feeling, "Whatever you need from me you got it."

Carol's lips twisted into a bittersweet smile, her eyes welling.

"I don't know if I even know who I am any more... but whoever she is... she needs _you..."_ she said softly.

Daryl took a deep breath and gave her back a crooked slightly worried grin while he nodded and kissed her tears away tenderly.

"You need to get some rest." he told her gently. "We both do... it's been a hell of few days."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading my little trilogy here. I miss them interacting so much it hurts. I think I need to go back and watch some Season 2 & 5A to recharge my feels..._


End file.
